


Disorientation

by conceptofzero



Series: Trip [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diamonds Droog is a patient man. All he has to do is wait for Die to fuck up. He's a Felt; it's just a matter of time. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/262076">Bad Trip</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disorientation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this drawing by TrainedBrofessional](http://conceptofzero.tumblr.com/post/13380213450/trainedbrofessional-i-have-a-serious-problem).

Die doesn't obey his orders. Of course he doesn't. Droog hadn't expected him to follow them. Someone like Die was a quick learner, but even that was a little too quick to be expected.

The first time he catches sight of Die during a heist, Die has his doll out in half a second and he's gone with a blip. Droog notes this, caving in Egg's skull while a dozen clamour for attention around him, and gets back to the task at hand.

Die will have to come back to this timeline at some point, and when he pulls the pin, he'll appear near Droog. It's just a matter of being patient, and being prepared. He waits for the time to come, safe in the knowledge that it will arrive sooner or later.

The time is three weeks later, when Die appears with a soft pop in the safe Droog's standing in. He's got his back to Droog, the doll in one hand, and the red diamond pin in the other. Droog's crouched down on the floor, loading stacks of cash into the bags, and he moves soft as he can. Die doesn't hear or see him coming, his eyes too busy looking ahead for Droog.

It's so easy to spring up and catch his hands. Droog twists the one holding the pin behind his back, and the other clenches around the wrist holding the doll. Die gasps and tries to pull away, desperately trying to get the diamond pin back into the doll. "N-no, Crowbar!"

"The Felt aren't here." Droog's got his head near Die's face, the large collar presses against his chin, and Die turns his head to try look at him. He twists Die's wrists and listens with some satisfaction to the pained scream that comes out of his mouth. "The Crew is."

"Oh god-" Droog's nose is so close that he can nearly smell the panic that rolls off of Die's skin. The skinny man's body tenses up, only torquing tighter and tighter as Droog keeps twisting his hands. Just as he thinks he'll have to break it, Die's fingers go loose and he drops the doll onto the ground, quickly followed by the pins. "Please, I- don't-"

He tucks both of Die's arms behind his back, holding them in place with his right hand. Droog slides his left hand around Die's neck, squeezing it tight and choking him just so slightly, enough to make him squirm. "I gave you instructions. I expect them followed. Do you remember what I said would happen if you disobeyed?"

"I- y-yes, I r-rem-" He gasps the words out between the clenching of Droog's hand. Droog squeezes until he can feel Die start struggling to breathe, and then he lets go, fingers slipping into his bow tie. Die sucks in air, desperate and afraid, putty in Droog's hands. "I'm sorry I remember, I'm sorry-"

"Quiet." Droog orders and Die shuts his mouth immediately. He tugs at the bow tie, the strip of green fabric coming undone and sliding off of Die's neck. It's easy to slip it over Die's pinned wrists and to tie them together. They're not much of a restraint; if Die was determined, he could escape them.

But the way he just shakes at Droog's touch makes it clear he won't be trying that. Droog tilts Die's head further to the side, getting a good look at his eyes. He's sober this time, which seems to be why his mouth hasn't fallen open to beg forgiveness in the past thirty seconds. His jaw is clenched tight, and Droog knows he'll have to be careful with Die.

His fingers stroke over Die's jaw, over that thin skin stretched over his bones. "Let's start again, see what you remember."

Droog lets go of Die, hand closing around his pool cue. Die, predictably, makes a run for it. He stumbles as his foot hits one of the half-full bags of cash, slips and falls on his face. Droog approaches him, waiting for Die to push himself up before hitting him with the pool cue. He's careful not to break anything, but tomorrow there will be a bruise on Die's back the width of the pool cue. Die cries out, and Droog gives him another for flinching.

Die's head comes up, and the next blow takes his hat right off his head. He slumps back down, blood dripping down the side of his head. Die's voice is frantic when he speaks, on the edge of desperate, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't kill me, please, please!"

He lets him beg for a bit, watches the blood puddle on the floor and listens at Die works himself into a frenzy, promising to do anything, anything at all, if Droog will let him live. He wipes this bloody pool cue on the back of Die's jacket, watching him tense up and tremble softly at the touch of solid wood. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Y-yes! Yes, I-I've learned it!" He lifts his head, trying to look over his shoulder at Droog. "I s-swear, I'll do anything you want, I'll do whatever you tell me to-"

"Quiet." And Die's quiet again. Droog slides the card into his jacket and checks to make sure Slick and the others are still dealing with everything else. There aren't any gunshots or alarms screaming, or Slick breathing down his neck to hurry up and pack the cash.

He takes a moment to pack the rest, throwing it into the bags rather than placing it in neatly. Droog's a bit annoyed, but he lets it pass. He can sacrifice neatness for just a moment. Die lays face-first on the ground, breathing irregularly. His doll is nearby, out of reach of his hands, but his eyes are fixed on it. Droog zips the last bag shut, and then kneels down between Die's legs, reaching over him to grab the doll. Die makes a soft strangled noise in the back of his throat, pure frustration, and then goes quiet again as Droog rests a hand on Die's back.

"Do I need to gag you, or can you keep quiet?" he asks, and Die's voice shudders softly.

"I'll be quiet," Die's answer is little more than a whisper. Droog sets the doll to the side and lifts Die's coat up. His fingers coax Die's hips up enough to gets his hand underneath. He's already hard, and Die closes his eyes, face flushed and embarrassed. Droog strokes him through his pants, once, twice, three times, just to listen to Die sob ever so softly. "Please-"

"Please do, or please don't?" Droog says it just to watch Die's face go darker. It's clear that Die doesn't want this, but his body is being helpfully contrary. That's good. Droog won't have to try hard to make Die feel bad about this when he's busy doing the work for Droog. He unbuttons Die's pants and pulls them down to his knees, leaving him undressed from hip to mid-thigh.

Some time in the future, when he has everything under his control, he's going to undress Die completely and take his time breaking him into tiny pieces. But he doesn't have time for that now, and he isn't ready for Slick and the others to see this. He dips his fingers into the blood coming off of Die's head and covers his fingers in it, holding them where Die can see the vivid red. Die's eyes go wide. "N-no, no please-"

"You'd rather I went in dry?" Droog's voice is carefully casual, like he's asking Die if he would like to order an entree, or which colour of tie he prefers. Die shakes his head frantically, flinching when Droog presses his hips against Die. "In case you've forgotten, you do what I tell you to, and you thank me for it. Or I could use the pool cue first-"

"I h-have lubricant in my p-pocket-!" Die sounds like he's about to cry, his voice on the edge of breaking. But he's not crying, not yet anyway. "P-please, please use that, d-don't- don't use blood, I have l-lube, you don't need to u-use blood!"

Droog raises an eyebrow, slipping his hand into Die's pocket. He's careful, just in case there's something in there to snap at his fingers or draw blood. There isn't, he he finds the small container of something clear and slimy. He holds it in front of Die's face. "How convenient. Or do you make a habit of carrying lube in case we meet again?"

There's no answer from Die. That's a yes then. How practical of him. Droog opens the container up, taking a moment to sniff it, just to be sure this also isn't a trap. There's a medicinal smell to it, bitter and dark. He dabs his fingers in it, and to be sure, he brings them up and sticks them in Die's mouth. Die's eyes go wide, but he doesn't panic. Whatever it is, it isn't poison. He wouldn't be so calm if it was poison.

He prepares Die, not being particularly gentle about sliding his fingers into his ass. Die's jaw clenches and he tries to stay quiet. He has a great deal more control over himself when he isn't high. Droog can hardly say he approves. He was much easier when Die was letting his mouth spill out every though passing through his vacant terrified mind, but this isn't entirely bad. There's a challenge here in the words he isn't saying, in the way his body language speaks so loudly that it might as well be screaming. Die’s jaw is clenched tight, but as Droog’s fingers work him open, he breathes through his nose with loud, panicked gulps.

Die's not quite ready when he stops. It's a deliberate choice on Droog's part. He unbuckles his own pants and slides them down. It would be better if he took them off, but he might need to get them done up in a hurry, so he suffers the inevitable wrinkles. Droog strokes himself hard, watching Die's body tremble with fear. It's the anticipation that's killing him, the way Droog takes his time (or as much as he dares), slowly pressing the head of his cock against Die's entrance before pausing.

He stays paused, and just as he's about to push in, Die speaks. It's a whisper, but when they're this close, a whisper is loud enough. "Please."

"Again." Droog prompts, pressing in a little. Die's tight, and it takes all of his control to keep his face like stone.

"Please," Die whines, his hips pushing back against Droog, "Just... do it. Get it over with."

Droog should push him some more. But they really don't have the time for that. He sinks into Die, and his poker face drops briefly, pleasure seeping through. Die's tense, and everything is so tight because of it, gripping Droog like a vice. He settles his hands on Die's hips, stroking the bare flesh as he gets settled deep inside. And when he's ready, he thrusts, watching as Die's face contorts with a self-loathing pleasure.

"What do you say?" He slowly thrusts into Die. Die turns his face away from Droog, pressing his forehead against the floor. He thrusts in deeper, listening to Die's breath hitch. "I said, what do you say?"

Die mumbles into the floor. It takes a hand on the back of his neck to make him speak up. Die's hands pull against his bow tie, but not hard enough to get free. "t-thankyou."

"Louder." Die shudders and it feels so good. Droog's been thinking about this for weeks, thinking about how good it would feel to fuck him again. The Felt's been a pain in the ass for the Crew for years. It's only fair he gets something back, something that makes all this bullshit worth it. Die's not it, not entirely, but he's certainly a start.

"Thank you for fucking me," Die's voice is still quiet, but it's loud enough for him. Droog gets a solid grip on Die and puts some speed into it, his cock driving into Die as a good steady pace. Die moans, face turning to the side again as he does. "T-thank you. Thank you Droog. I'm s-sorry."

Droog knows he's sorry. That doesn't mean he won't do it again. Die's just doing what he thinks will keep him alive. And when he thinks running away will do that, then he'll run away again. Droog sinks into Die, feeling him tighten around Droog, and knows that next time, he'll have to escalate it again. When the bruises aren't enough, he'll have to find something else to hurt him with. Or, rather, someone else to hurt.

He says nothing, listening to Die whimper and quietly beg. It's amazing how sincere Die is, even when they both know he'll prove himself a liar. Droog curls his hand around Die's neck. The other slips beneath him, giving his cock a squeeze. Die struggles to stay quiet, his heavy breathing echoing in the safe. Droog just keeps a tight grip up until Die breaks with a moan, choking out an answer. "T-thank you, thank y-you-"

"Next time, you will not argue with me. You will not bargain. You will do exactly as I say.” Droog’s getting close. Die’s still tense and tight, and Droog reconsiders his thoughts about Die being more pleasurable when in a less than sober state. He wasn’t nearly this tight then, or this desperate to control himself. “Understand?”

“Yes yes yes yes,” Die whispers, and that’s enough. Droog pulls out of him, turning Die onto his back. His cock is hard, twitching as Droog rubs his thumb over the head. Die’s fightened eyes are locked onto Droog, his voice hoarse and thin from Droog’s grip on his throat. “Pleeeease.”

“Not yet. Open your mouth.” Droog settles his knees on either side of Die’s head, one hand closing around his cock and stroking it, the other spread flat on the floor, holding his weight up. Die’s mouth falls open, even his tongue sticking out. Droog grins at how compliant he is, how eager to please, and strokes himself faster. He comes a moment later, breath caught in his chest. White strands mostly fall in Die’s open mouth, a few landing on his lips and cheeks. He pants softly as he finishes, the steady throb of pleasure slowly dying down. Die looks up at him, mouth still open, cum lying on his tongue. Droog taps his mouth closed. “Swallow.”

He does, eyes shutting momentarily. Droog stands, hitching his pants up and buttoning them shut. Die lays silently on the floor, still hard, still wanting. Droog presses his shoe against Die’s cock, just the perfect amount of pressure. That’s all Die needs and he twists himself up again, moaning like a cheap whore as he comes all over his stomach. His shirt is ruined. Droog’s shoes escape the worst of it, but he still makes sure to wipe them against Die’s pants, just in case.

“Thank you,” Die murmers. Droog picks up the voodoo doll and drops it beside his head. Then, after a moment, he makes sure to grab one of the pins.

“Next time,” Droog reminds him. Die blanches a bit. There’s no need to say anything more. He takes a moment to watch Die struggle with the bow-tie holding his wrists together before checking the time. Droog needs to get moving, before the Crew notices he’s been taking far too long. He grabs the bags of cash and heads out of the vault.

Of course, these things never go smoothly.

“What the fuck was that?” Slick’s standing just outside, leaning against the wall. He’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, giving Droog a look that’s one part suspicious, and two parts smug. “Or do you make a habit out of sticking your dick in the Felt?”

“That was none of your concern.” He shoves one of the bags into Slick’s arms and heads for the front. Slick doesn’t follow right away, rubbernecking into the vault to get a good look at Die, who’s presumably still lying on the floor.

He catches up a moment later, that smug grin on his face. “So, is he any good?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Droog suggests, watching Slick’s face get greedy. He leads him behind, heading out into the main office where Boxcars and Deuce are waiting. Slick comes out a little later - just enough later for someone to have gone into the vault and come back out - a scowl plastered on his face. Looks like Die got out before Slick could get him. Droog’s silently pleased by this turn of events. He’s nowhere near ready to share Die. Not yet at least.

“C’mon boss, we need to get out of here. The alarm’s gonna go off any second now.” Boxcars grabs the sacks of cash, along with the other valuables he and Deuce grabbed while Droog was in the vault, and carts them out to the van.

Droog follows, slipping a hand in his pocket. His fingers touch on the pin he picked up off the ground, and the little red diamond on the end. If Die wants this back, he’s going to have to find Droog.


End file.
